New Girl
by hashtagfanfiction
Summary: After her mom get's a new job offer, Cammie finds herself moving out of her old private school in New York City to a small high school in the tiny town of Rosewood. The only reason Cammie is okay with it? The infuriatingly charming Zach Goode is doing his best to make her feel welcome. Of course, things would be easier if Cammie actually knew what she was doing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay so this is my first fanfiction so bear with me. I just wanted to mess around with the whole Zammie romance thing because tbh who doesn't want to hear more about Zachary Goode? Anyways if you like it please review! I'm going to add more chapters anyways but it would be awesome if you could tell me what you want to hear or what you think about it so far...Hope you enjoy it! -#hashtagfanfiction**

Maybe it was my age. Being sixteen makes you really hormonal, you know. But to me, moving was the end of the world. If it was a short move, like to a bigger apartment across the hall, or a thirty minute drive north or something like that I wouldn't have made such a fuss about it. But moving all the way from New York to _Virginia _was kind of a really big deal.

I made sure to remind my mom of that every moment we spent together. Even if it meant ignoring her the whole seven-hour ride to the new house. I had done a pretty good job of it so far. Instead of responding to her thousands of attempts of conversation I just stuck my earphones into my ears and raised my volume as high as it could go, or played on my phone. Not only did I further stress my fury with the situation but I also managed to beat my high score on temple run.

Sure, maybe I was exaggerating, but I _was_ a teenager. Being over-dramatic was practically a requirement. I assumed, by now Mom would've gotten the hint that I wouldn't be talking to her any time soon, but she still kept on pressing a conversation with me.

"Cammie you're honestly going to love it here," Mom was insisting. She waited for my response, and when it didn't come she continued. "Roseville is so cute and small, it's just like something out of a book. And the new house is _gorgeous._" I could tell how hard she was trying to get me to forgive her. The bag of road trip snacks and candies lying at my feet was proof.

"That's cool."

They were the first words I had said to Mom in over an seven hours, and even though they were far from 'you're forgiven for dragging me across the states to a town in the middle of nowhere' she acted as if that's what I'd said instead.

"I can't wait for you to see the house," she started to ramble. "It's big, but not too big, like scary, haunted-house kind of big. It's just right you know? And it's got—you know what? I'll let you see for yourself."

I looked out the window and I could feel the scowl I had worn for the whole ride finally break into a smile. We had never had our own house. Ever. Back in New York, I went to a private, boarding school. Plus the fact that Mom was the headmistress meant that we lived there almost year round. But now, looking up at the house that was going to be ours brought a giant grin to my face.

"You're kidding me?" I cried, unbuckling my seatbelt and hopping out of the car before it even came to a stop. My footsteps slapped across the clean, white surface of our rock-lined driveway as I ran towards the front door. The house had a fresh, new kind of smell that I took a huge breath of the minute I stepped inside. It was empty still, since our furniture was still in New York, but that way I could see how big it really was.

The sound of me shuffling around the house reverberated across the house as I explored. There were already over ten spots I had found that were perfect for reading on a rainy day. I was half way through scoping the upstairs bedrooms when I heard Mom's voice call me from downstairs.

"How're you liking it?"

I hurried down our new stairs and landed on the bottom story with a thud. Immediately I replaced my excited, curious face with a more serious nonchalant one. No matter, how pretty or big the house was it still wasn't the same as Gallagher, my old home. Where I belonged.

"It's alright," I shrugged. It was obviously not the reaction Mom had been expecting. She sighed.

"I don't get how many times I have to apologize Cam. I wouldn't have taken the job if I didn't think you'd wouldn't love it here." She extended her arms and gestured to the big empty space around. "Why don't you walk around for a while? You can get to know your way around Rosewood."

She looked at me pleadingly and I couldn't say no. After the whole silent treatment thing I felt like she had enough of the whole hormonal daughter act for a day. "Fine," I grumbled, side-stepping around her to get to the front door. Mom beamed, and waved me goodbye.

"Have fun!" She shouted, just before I shut the door behind me. I paused at the doorway looking over my new neighborhood. Okay, so maybe it wasn't as bad as I had made it out to be. The neighborhood was gorgeous. As I started down our street, I realized it really looked like something off of movie.

The lawns were perfectly cut without a blade of grass out of place and there were flashy sports cars in the driveways. Kids were even playing _outside_ which really surprised me because I mean, barely any kids play outside these days. It felt good to see them running around.

I turned followed the tree-lined road, thinking about my whole situation. On Monday I would start my first at Rosewood High School. It was totally freaking me out. I mean, I had gone to private school basically all my life, so I had no clue what to do, say, or dress. Wait; check that, an _all _girls private school. I was screwed.

Just the thought of me being surrounded by hundreds of new people, more than half of which were guys was enough to make me sick. Not only that, what would I wear? I mean, I was used to wearing a uniform so there was a 99.9% I would show up wearing something completely wrong.

_Stop thinking about it Cammie, _I demanded myself. I was starting to sweat nervously, and to the people driving past me, I must have looked insane. I tried thinking about other things, like how pretty Roseville was. Mom was right when she said it was small. I hadn't even been walking for ten minutes and I was already approaching what looked like the Town Center.

Up ahead I could see people shopping at boutiques and eating a little cafés. It was the picture perfect image out of a stereotypical romantic comedy movie. I kept on walking, despite the cold wind that was starting to blow in the opposite direction. I wasn't expecting it to be so cold in _Virginia_, especially in September, so I didn't have anything but a Gallagher sweatshirt and some old leggings. Needless to say, I was freezing.

I walked through Town Center for a while until I couldn't take the cold weather anymore. My teeth were chattering a mile a minute, and I had a million goose bumps running up my arms. I ducked into a cute little coffee shop to warm up a little bit before I started heading back home.

The sweet aroma of the coffee hit me as I walked into the toasty shop. It was pretty crowded which kind of bugged me because, I was the new girl, which meant everyone in the shop, had an excuse to look at me. And I hated being looked at.

I looked down at the ground as I made my way to the counter so I could order my drink. I felt eyes on me, but I ignored them. I wasn't too pretty or too ugly. I was plain, and plain people didn't get stared at too long. The barista at the counter was giving me an overly friendly smile.

"Hey!" She said brightly, "Welcome to Jammin' Java coffee shop, I'm Patricia and I'll be helping you out today!" I scanned the menu hanging behind her, partly because she was freaking me out a little and partly because I didn't know what I wanted.

"What do you recommend?" I asked, meeting Patricia's eager gaze. Immediately, she started rambling every option she thought I would like, which apparently was _every option_ on the menu. "Can I have one of those?" I said, in between her ginormous list of coffees, cappuccinos and frappuccinos. I didn't know exactly what I ordered but I was sure it was "delicious" and "amaze-balls", because those are the words Patricia used to describe them.

"Sure thing, chicken wing!" She chirped ringing up my total bill. "That'll be five dollars and fifty-two cents." I reached down to shuffle through my pockets for the money, but when my hand met the soft black surface of my leggings I realized I had no pockets—or money.

"Just one sec," I mumbled, desperately upturning my sweatshirt pocket for at least six dollars. I could see a line forming behind me already and I didn't want to be the one to hold it up. Patricia's smile was still on her face, but it looked less cheery now and more forced.

"Do you not have six dollars? Because if you don't it's store policy for me to have to ask you to move aside." I could feel my face burn red, and I was about to get out of the line, and walk back home without my coffee or my pride, when someone behind me said, "I got her."

Both Patricia and I turned to see who was offering to pay for me, and both Patricia and I looked shocked to see that he looked like an Abercrombie model. I wasn't usually the girl to attract any _hot _male attention. I mean, sure, guys liked me but not the kind that looked like they stepped off of the cover of a Nicholas Sparks novel. The boy in front of me was tall, a good deal taller than me, with broad shoulders and messy dark hair. He had a smirky kind of mouth and when he extended his twenty-dollar bill it was already turned into a lazy grin that was directed to me.

"No, no," I said hurriedly, my eyes darting from Patricia to the boy. "You really don't have to do that. I wasn't that thirsty anyways."

The boy waved me away and then turned to Patricia and said, "Just buy her the drink and put me down for the same one." And he winked. Patricia looked as if her face might break she was smiling so big. She nodded and punched some keys in. "Sure thing Zach."

The boy, Zach, I guess, stepped aside so that the person behind us could order and I followed him. "Thanks so much," I smiled. I had to look up to meet his eyes, which were a piercing green and were, at the moment, trained on me. He shrugged, as if he buys coffee for all the new girls in Roseville.

"Don't worry about it…?

"Cammie,"  
"Cammie." Zach repeated, "I like it." He looked me up and down. His eyes lingering on my chest (ew, not in _that _way) and I saw him read off the words 'Gallagher'. For a moment I was nervous: back in New York, Gallagher Academy had a reputation of being a prissy school for snobs. Usually when people found out I went there they treated me different. Like I was a brat or something. But when Zach read it there was no recognition in his face and I remembered it was a new town, a fresh start.

"Gallagher, huh?" He prodded, nodding towards my sweatshirt. I fumbled around with the sleeves, nervously.

"Yeah, it's my old school." It was stating the obvious, and I knew it. But hey, I was from an all girls private school. Talking to Guys 101 wasn't exactly a class we could take. Zach shoved his hands into his pockets.

"So I'm guessing you're new?" He was talking smoothly, as if he talked to all the new girls who came to Roseville on a daily bases. I on the other hand, was kind of nervous. I tried to seem cool and relaxed as I said, "Yeah. We just got here today." The boy nodded, opening his mouth to say something but before he could Patricia sang out, in her extremely cheerful voice, "Zachary Goode?" And even though she announced the names of _all _the people who ordered coffee, when she said 'Zachary Goode' it sounded completely different than when she said anyone else's. When I reached over to get my coffee she reached past me and handed them both to him, without even a second glance. "Enjoy," she giggled.

Zach smiled easily at her, and handed me my drink. I was a bit reluctant to take a sip since the cup was steaming and I didn't exactly know what I had ordered, but the minute I took a sip I was glad I did. Best. Coffee. _Ever. _

"This is amazing," I breathed, taking another giant sip of my drink. Zach nodded and took a drink of his own.

"Best coffee in town." We walked across the shop and stopped in front of the window over looking Town Center. Zach drummed his hands along his coffee cup. I wish I knew what to say. Was it always this awkward talking to guys? I wracked my brain through all the AP classes I'd taken at Gallagher and all I could think of to say was, "The weather here is colder than I expected." Yes, I was standing next to an extremely attractive guy and I mentioned the _weather_.

Zach laughed, wiping his hand across the frosty window and announcing, "That's probably what the Pilgrims thought when they settled here too."

"The Pilgrims didn't settle in Virginia."

Zach waved the detail away. "Technicality."

"If you say so…" I snickered, watching the condensation droplets slide down the window. Zach's eyes broke away from the window and he studied me. "So, where are you going to school? Roseville High?" He looked genuinely curious, and not like he was just trying to fill up the silence.

"Yeah, I think that's where my house is zoned to." I said, because it sounded like a smart thing to say. I didn't know if my house was zoned to Roseville High, or if I was going because that's where my mom was working, but either way at 8:00 Monday morning that's where I would be. My answer brought another easy smile to Zach's face. Yep. I, Cammie Morgan, had actually made a guy smile at the thought of us going to the same school.

"Good, because Dayton High _sucks._" Zach informed me. "We play them pretty soon so you can come see for yourself." I paused, mid-sip. Now, I'm not very good at guy talk but I was pretty sure this was a teenage boy's way of casually asking me to come see him play.

"Uh football?" I asked stupidly. Of course he was talking about football. I mean, he looked about the definition of a all-star football player. You know, all broad shouldered and what-not. But then Zach said something to make me question everything I'd ever heard about football boys.

"Uh no, I'm actually talking about synchronized swimming." My eyes darted up from my coffee cup. Was he joking? He had to be joking. Wasn't synchronized swimming like a girl thing? And not only a girl thing, but like, a _weird _girl thing? But the look on his face was completely one hundred and ten percent serious.

"Can you actually play in synchronized swimming?" I questioned, searching his face for any sign of a joke. But he only stared at me with serious green eyes, and a faint look of amusement.

"Oh yeah, it's really hardcore." Zach leaned in as if he were about to tell me a secret. "And Coach said he might even going to let us put _sparkles _on our uniforms this year." And I couldn't help it. I busted out laughing. I mean, sparkles? It was too much.

Zach cracked a smile and then leaned against the windowsill casually and said, "Yeah it's football. You should come." I was about to answer that yes, I would definitely go, but then there was a ground shaking boom of thunder and I looked out the window to see darkening skies and a pretty good chance of rain. And I remembered: I'm walking home.

"Crap!" I hissed, dropping my empty cup into the nearest trashcan and heading for the door. "I've got to go. But thanks again for the coffee!" I stepped out of into the cold inclement looking weather, and the café shop door was almost swinging to a shut when I heard Zach yell, "See you later, Gallagher Girl!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for reading so far y'all! This chapter is absolutely awful and I know it, so I'm super sorry. I'll try to update more frequently and all that. Plus, my sister has been helping me out a bunch with this fanfiction, so go follow her: VolleyballGoddess. Her stories are awesome, and you should read them! Thank you soooo much for all the reviews, please keep sending in more. Tell me what you think of this new one!**

* * *

My mom woke me up at eight a.m. sharp the next day, even though the smell of her burning waffles would have done the trick eventually. "Mom," I shouted sleepily, burrowing deeper into my blankets. "It's a Sunday!"

From downstairs I heard Mom's muffled response, which I didn't understand so I turned over in my makeshift bed (a couple of blankets and a pillow, until all our furniture came down from New York) and pretended she had given me five extra minutes. I was what you could call _not _a morning person. Like, at all. Especially on the weekend, when sleeping in was basically the purpose. I tried staying in bed as long as possible, but then my mom shouted loud and clear, "Cameron Ann Morgan the movers come at eight thirty and if you aren't up so _help_ me God…" and I shot out of bed quicker than light. The sound of my full name always had the tendency to do that.

"I'm up!" I grumbled, wadding into the bathroom. I flicked on the light, took one glance in the mirror, and immediately turned it back off again. I should probably wake up completely before I even tried to deal with the monster I called my reflection. My best bet was to go downstairs, eat something and _then _try to comb all the tangles out of my knotted hair. So I went downstairs and joined my mother in the smoking kitchen.

"Morning kiddo!" She chirped, fanning at the frying pan that was at the moment in flames. "Your waffles are on the counter." I turned away from the burning stove (because really, this was a normal thing in the Morgan household), and found my food on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. My first initial thought was 'is that really a waffle?' because the awkwardly shaped lump on my plate was almost completely black and burned. But then I saw, that it was indeed at least _something _of the waffle category and that it was coated in maple syrup, so I took a bite.

"Yum," I lied, giving Mom thumbs up. She turned her attention from the bacon frying in the pan and studied me. Maybe it was her mom-instincts or the fact that I'm an awful liar, but she rolled her eyes and said, "You can eat some cereal."

I shot her a grateful smile, and dropped my waffle and hurried to the pantry. We were still low on food since we'd barely just moved in, but there, sitting on the very top shelf were my Frosted Flakes. I snatched them up, grabbed myself the tiny carton of milk we'd bought on the way over here, and hopped back onto the counter with a clean bowl in my lap. "Thanks Mom."

Mom reached over (to ruffle my hair probably), but before she could the piercing sound of the smoke alarm ringing upstairs stopped her. She muttered a bad word and made her way up the stairs claiming something about how cooking is harder is way than Paula Deen makes it look. I couldn't help but smile.

Sitting there, on the gleaming surface of our new kitchen counter, with the early morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, I was absolutely sure for the first time since we moved that I would be happy here. Roseville was such a nice, cute town and things were looking up. I dug into my cereal, silently thanking Mom for taking the job here. She was right; I really liked it.

"Seriously, Kate? I don't want to!" I suddenly heard a muffled voice shouting from outside, breaking me from my thoughts. I looked up from my bowl of food and towards my front yard where the voice seemed to be coming from. There was a barely audible response on the other side, and the same voice groaned, "I don't care about 'making connections'. Neighborly kindness my butt!" Except they used another word for butt. I slid off the counter with every intention to tell whoever was screaming in _my _front yard to go away but before I could the doorbell rang.

"Yes?" I snapped, once my front door was open. I wasn't exactly a fan of rude people who screamed in their neighbor's yard, but the moment my eyes met my visitor's, I froze. Zach? The boy at the door must have thought the same thing, because for a moment surprise registered across his face, but then a mask of amusement quickly covered it.

"So we meet again." Zach extended a plate of cookies protected by clear plastic wrap (the good looking kind; crispy on the edges, gooey in the middle. Much unlike what Mom's cookies look like). I took the plate out of Zach's hands and balanced it in between my arm and my hip.

"What are you following me now?" I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a playful way, although with my bed hair in a ponytail and my pajamas I probably looked more like a zombie with a tic. I suddenly felt self conscious and really wished I'd attempted to at least brush my teeth before I went downstairs. Zach grinned, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his very well-fitting jeans (they _did _fit him well, it's just an observation), and leaning against the doorframe.

"You wish."

I did. Sort of. I ignored the comment and unwrapped the plate of cookies, picked one from the plate, and bit into it. "Wow, these are good!" I told him genuinely shocked, as the taste of chocolate and sugar exploded on my tongue. Zach didn't even hesitate to say, with a sly smirk, "So am I."

I rolled my eyes. Were all boys this provocative and cocky or was it just Zach? And why did he keep smiling like that? Was there chocolate on my face? "Now you're the one wishing," I taunted. As an afterthought I opened my mouth, about to tell him that he may be Goode, but he would never be _good_ but before I could, Mom kept bounding down the stairs. She had her apron on, (stained, and charcoaled from all the things she sets on fire), and an oven-mitt on her left hand. She paused at the stairs, glancing between me and the boy standing in the doorway.

"Uh, Cam?" She said, in her trying-hard-not-to-sound-uncool-but-I'm-super-excited-right-now voice. "Who's this?"

"This is—"

"Zach. Zach Goode. I'm you're next door neighbor." Zach interrupted, extending his hand. Mom raised her eyebrows at me and shot me a way indiscrete, and a _waaaay _embarrassing thumbs up before reaching to shake his hand.

She looked down at the cookies in my hands and her face brightened. "Did you make these?" Zach didn't break eye contact with my mom for a second. It was like he forgot I was even still there.

"Actually my sister did. She would've come but she was headed out for work. She said she would love to meet you." He explained. The thought of that brought a smile to Mom's face.

"How sweet!" She took the plate out of my hands and headed for the kitchen. "Tell her I said thanks a lot, and that she should send me the recipe. They look delicious!"

I cringed at the thought of Mom attempting to bake cookies, and then turned my attention back to Zach. He was staring at the spot Mom had just vacated. I could feel my face flush. Mom was pretty, gorgeous even, I was used to guys acting like this when they saw her. But the look on Zach's face when his eyes met mine told me his expression had nothing to do with my mom's hotness but with something way different.

"Your mom's cool," he told me. He sounded like he meant it, and he wanted me to really know how cool my mom was.

"Um thanks, she's kind of crazy but…" my voiced trailed off at the sight of a giant moving van rumbling up our driveway. A cloud of dark black smoke puffed out of the exhaust pipe, and the whole van seemed to teeter to the side as if it was about to fall. I thought about how much stuff we had packed in it, and realized it probably was.

"Oh those must be the movers!" Mom shouted suddenly, running in from the kitchen. She dropped the cookie that was halfway in her mouth and hurried to my side, giving the two men in the front seat of the van over-exaggerated waves.

"Do you guys need any help?" Zach asked Mom. I don't think she heard however because she was already pushing past him and trying to pry open the back of the moving van. I sighed at her, and stepped around Zach as well, and into the fresh, sunny fall air.

"Actually, I think we've got it. Thanks though." I said, rolling up the sleeves of my Gallagher sweatshirt, which also doubled as pajamas (okay, so maybe I was a _little _homesick). I started walking to help Mom but Zach grabbed my arm to stop me.

"Come on, Gallagher Girl," he snorted, directing a nod towards Mom and the two burly men who were watching her bend down instead of emptying the van of it's boxes. "It looks like you need all the help you can get. Besides, we both know I can lift at least three times more than you." He said it casually, but I didn't take it like that. If there was one thing Cammie Morgan was not, was boy-dependent. And weak. Okay, so maybe that was two things. Who cares? I still was neither one.

"You can _not_." I said hotly.  
Zach scoffed. "Uh, actually I can."

"No, you can't."

"Of course I can. Guys are stronger than girls."

"You're sexist." I snapped. "And wrong."

"It's well-known." Zach claimed, raising his arms in surrender. "I'm just stating the facts." I glared at him and pushed him out of my way. All I could think as I grabbed on of the _bigger _boxes, was maybe Zach wasn't as great as I thought he was. Everyone had flaws. His just happened to be that he was an over-confident, sexist teenage boy.

I shot a pointed glance at Zach as I carried a box almost twice the size as me up the walkway and dropped it on the foyer floor. The movers had broken out of their staring-trance after Mom yelled at them and now were huffing and puffing our furniture into the house. Zach shook his head at me and grinned before picking a box and following me in.

"All I'm saying," he continued. "Is that you're like what, five foot five?"

"Five six." I corrected setting down the box in the empty living room. He set his down and followed me out, ignoring me like I didn't say anything.

"—so you're like half a foot shorter than me, and weight like fifty pounds less. And I play football. So logically speaking—"

"Playing football does not make you stronger than me."

"—I should be able to carry more." He finished and lifted up two boxes from the back of the van, walking inside.

I grabbed a box and followed, growling under my breath.

**Pros and Cons of Being Neighbors With Zach Goode.**

**A list by Cameron Morgan:**

He helps you move into your new home and offers you a plate of cookies like a gentleman. PRO

You have to listen to him talk about how strong and helpful he is the whole time. CON

He actually _can _carry the really heavy things up and down the stairs, which means you won't have to do it. PRO

He digs through all your boxes even though you labeled one of them _private _and you practically tackled him to keep him from looking at it. CON

He is big enough to push you off of him and look through the box anyway. CON

He helps you unpack your room. PRO

He makes fun of _every single _decoration you've ever owned. CON

"What is this?" Zach snickered, lifting up a spelling bee trophy from my seventh grade. We had finished emptying the moving van downstairs, and while my mother and the movers finished setting up the living room, Mom told me to go and unpack my room. Zach unfortunately took that as an invitation to join me.

"What do you think it is?" I snapped, snatching it from his grasp. I ran my index finger along the engraved print. "Cammie Morgan: Spelling Bee Champion 2010-GALLAGHER ACADEMY." Zach's raised an eyebrow and turned back to the box he was emptying. I had given him the one I thought he would make fun of less. It was full of photo albums and old certificates, but he still managed to tease me about something.

My room was shaping up nicely. Zach and the movers had carried my bed upstairs, and even though I tried to help, one of the movers had said, "Don't hurt yourself, sweet cheeks. Let the men get it." and when I looked at Zach he was trying hard to not laugh. _I _had dragged my bedside table _and _drawer all by myself and now they were pressed up against the wall of my new spacious room too. At this point we were just decorating but we still had a long way to go.

"You know," Zach said, inspecting a framed photo of my Aunt Abby and me that we took in Rome. I snatched it away from him and put it on a shelf. "It's a good thing Kate sent me over here with those cookies. I would've hated it if you had to unpack this _whole_ room all by yourself." He swept his arms out dramatically as if it was Madison Square Garden instead of a bedroom and smirked at me.

"I could have done it myself, you know." I countered.

He shrugged. "Sure. But let's think of it as a bonding experience."

"I thought you didn't care about making 'neighborly connections' with us?" I joked, remembering the shouting I'd heard earlier that morning. He cringed and leaned against the wall. "Oh…you heard that, huh?" I just grinned back at him.

Zach ran a hand through his hair. "In my defense, I didn't know it was you," he explained. What did that mean? Would he have wanted to 'connect' with me if he'd actually _known_ it was me? Wait no, that came out _way_ wrong.

I started to panic internally. Boys were confusing.

To cover up my inner alarm, I said, "You meet a new girl yesterday, your sister sends you to meet a new neighbor today, and it doesn't _occur_ to you it might've been the same girl? I'm pretty sure Roseville isn't that big, Zach."

Zach opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it after a moment with a grunt. _Ha_. Cameron Morgan wins yet again.

All around the floor were half empty boxes, and bubble wrap. I kicked a couple of them aside and collapsed face first on my bed. I was exhausted. "How long have we been working?" I asked Zach, my face pressed up against the pillow so I sounded muffled. I heard shuffling around my room and then the weight of someone else sitting on the bed.

"Two hours give or take," Zach told me, and I groaned. It felt like we had been unpacking all day.

I shifted the pillow away from my face and peeked up at him. "Why are you still here?" Zach looked up at my question, alarmed. He narrowed his eyes and tossed one of my pillows in my direction.

"Seriously Gallagher Girl, I just spent the last one hundred twenty minutes of my life setting up your furniture and _that's _what you say to me?" Zach argued "Ungrateful little…"

I propped myself up on my elbow and cut him off. "Well, seeing as no one really forced you to do any of this there's no one to blame but yourself." I expected Zach to argue back and say something about how he was trying to be a gentleman but he folded his arms behind his head and leaned against my bedpost.

"Touché."

I smiled at my second victory (I was getting good at this), and laid my head back down onto the fluffy surface of my comforter. "Really," I told him, "You don't have to stay anymore. You've done more than enough. Thanks."

"Nah, I want to stay." Zach claimed. I looked up a little, staring through the curtain of hair that was covering my face. Zach's eyes were shut, as if he was resting, and he was drumming his hands on the wood of my headboard. Then both his eyes opened, settled on me, and he added, "To help you guys move in."

I rolled over on my back and covered my face with the pillow he had thrown at me. "Of course."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I can definitely explain the long time it took to update this story. Ahem: It was because...winter break.**

**Seriously though, I wanted to update, I swear, but I had writers block, and Netflix was calling my name. Fortunately for y'all, my sister, VolleyballGoddess, was there to slap me back on track and even write a little of this chapter. So, thank her for it.**

**I do already have parts of chapter four written, and I'll try to update before break is over. Happy New Year's by the way. May 2014 be hella-rad. **

* * *

I had barely had the pillow on my face for a couple of seconds before Zach yanked it off again. "Let's go, Gallagher Girl. We still have lots to do."

I groaned— again— but took the offered hand and let him pull me up, before starting to help him unpack yet another one of my boxes of stuff. (Seriously, how many things did I have? I don't remember having this many things at Gallagher.). It was a surprise we had gotten so much done so quickly. The next few hours passed by relatively quickly— and Zach's seemingly endless barrage of questions and comebacks made them go by even faster.

"So, do you have any siblings?"

"Nope."

"Cousins?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Aunts or uncles?"

"Do you always ask this many questions when you help a girl unpack?"

"That depends— do you always give one worded answers when a guy is trying to get to know you?" I ducked as a stuffed animal flew at my head.

"Zach!"

"Yes, dear?"

I bit back a smile and tried to look irritated. He saw though, and winked at me.

Zach and I were starving, exhausted, and (probably) pretty smelly by the time Mom called us back downstairs. I dropped the box I was rummaging through and took the stairs two at a time on my way down because the smell of pizza was engulfing the house and making my stomach growl like crazy. Zach chuckled behind me, going quite a bit slower.

"Hey you two!" Mom grinned as we entered the kitchen; peeling open one of the pizza boxes and cracking open a liter of soda. She grabbed a cheesy slice and set it on a freshly unpacked plate. "Hungry?"

I lunged for the food, grabbing two slices and the Sprite before I even responded to her question with a mouth full of pizza. "Yes!" I leaned against the kitchen counter, holding out the slice of pizza and letting the long strip of cheese dangle in the air before plucking it up with two fingers. I looked over at Zach. "Are you gonna eat?" I asked.

He shook his head, and shrugged. "Nah. I have to get going anyways." His eyes wandered over to the clock hanging above Mom's head and slowly started making his way to the door. "I told my sister I'd be home at four. Thanks for having me, Mrs. Morgan." He gave Mom a smooth smile. I glanced at my mom, who shooed me towards the hallway smiling maniacally. I rolled my eyes and set down my pizza slice, following Zach to the front door.

Zach opened the front door, and stepped into the afternoon sun. When he got down the steps he turned and smirked, giving me the typical boy-head nod as he sauntered backwards. "See you around, Gallagher Girl."

"Bye, Zach." I said, suddenly feeling awkward. What do you say to a guy you just met and spent the entire day with in your bedroom? "Thanks for helping me unpack."

He mock bowed. "My pleasure." He pivoted and turned onto the sidewalk towards his house.

"Cammie!" Mom squealed the minute the door had shut. I trudged back into the kitchen and picked up my pizza. She nudged me with her elbow. "That boy is _quite _the looker." She raised her glass of Sprite in salute and tipped it towards me. "Cheers to you, kiddo." I rolled my eyes and flicked a piece of fallen crust at her.

"Cheers for what? For getting him to help us move? That was all him!" I countered, glancing over at the door that Zach had just left from. Mom shrugged, wiping her greasy hands on her jeans and turning towards her bedroom.

"That's my point!"

* * *

I don't know about other girls, but I think shopping is literally _the worst._ I think walking through a mall for three hours is _worse than the worst. _And I think trying on the same shirt in six different colors is definitely _worse than the worst of the worst. _So, of course on Monday night I was absolutely miserable.

"Cam, will you please come out!" Mom was groaning on the other side of the fitting room door. I stared over at my reflection—a moderately tall, sixteen year old, with dirty blonde hair and gray eyes stared back at me looking totally abject—and shook my head even though Mom couldn't see me.

"No way!"

Mom had this great idea, to go shopping for new clothes since (she thought) I had absolutely nothing to wear for my first day of public school besides my old Gallagher uniform. Roseville High's semester didn't start until early September so it left me and my mother lots of time to pick out outfits, but yet she had chosen to pick tonight to drag me to the Roseville Mall and force me to try on a million and one pair of jeans.

"I bet you look gorgeous, honey." Mom calls out again tapping on the dressing room door again. I sighed, staring at myself in the mirror again and rubbing the fabric of the shirt in between my fingers.

"It doesn't fit." I told her. I wanted to yell out that the clothes I had back at home were just as good as the ones hanging on the rack in this dimly lit store, with too much perfume and too loud music, but Mom wouldn't believe me anyways, because her career as a high school principle had given her false confidence in what teenagers think is 'hip' or 'cool'.

"Bull, Cammie," She shouted back, in her no-nonsense tone. "I know for a fact that, that's your size. It fits just fine." The was a rattling on the other side of the door, and the lock started jingling and then the changing room door opened, to reveal Mom holding a bobby pin in her hand.

"Mom!" I groaned, pressing myself up against the wall. "It's not too small, it's too big." I grabbed the shirt at the top, where there was a mile long stretch between my chest and the fabric. "I have no boobs."

Mom leaned back, looking me up and down. "That's nothing a good push-up can't fix." She grabbed all of the clothes I had tried on (and hated) and slung them over her arm. "How bout you get dressed and we'll go to Victoria Secret and get you one?"

"No thanks."

"Get dressed Cameron." Mom ordered, swinging the door shut behind her. I sighed, pulling off the shirt and dropping it onto the floor by my shoes and then hurrying into the shirt I had come in. Clothes, oh so many clothes…Why couldn't everyone in the word just walk around in uniforms? Then no one would ever have the problem of what to wear. And then I wouldn't have to be loading a stack of crisp, new cologne scented outfits onto a register.

"All done." I sighed. Mom was standing in front of a tired look cashier, with bad acne and a miserable expression. His dark eyes skirted between me and the pile of clothes waiting to be scanned and his pierced lips curled into a smile.

"Did you find every thing okay today?" Both my mom and I answered at same time.

"No."

"Yes."

The cashier nodded, and started scanning the items painfully slowly. He said something about twenty percent off all hoodies and jackets and Mom immediately hurried off to get one. I sighed, when she returned two different jackets in hand in two different colors.

"Which one?" She offered, holding them both up. I studied the two of them, running my index finger along my temple. "White one."

Mom nodded, but dropped the gray jacket onto the register anyways and pushed away the white one. I guess my style of fashion wasn't that reliable. The cashier—Logan according to his nametag—rung up the total. My eyes widened at the numbers, but Mom didn't even flinch. She swiped her card with out batting a lash and grabbed the bags off of the counter.

As we walked out of the dimly lit store and back into the crowded mall I looked down at the clothes in the shopping bag and felt my stomach lurch. One more week until I would be wearing this down the hallways of Roseville High.

Thirty minutes later my new clothes were hung up in my closet, the sun was setting deep behind the branches of the trees lining our street, and my mom and I were bent over Chinese take-out in the living room. Frankenstein's beginning credits were appearing on the TV screen just as Mom asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, "Aren't you excited for Monday?"

I rolled my eyes and nodded, taking a giant bite of my egg roll. It was a lie. I was completely and totally _not _excited for Monday. Because Monday would be both me and my Mom's first day at Roseville High. I didn't know how most kids would feel about their mother teaching at the same high school they would be attending but I was anything but happy. It would be nothing like at Gallagher. I could feel the same sinking feeling in my stomach that I felt at the mall, weighing down my take-out like an anchor.

"You should tip off my teachers to lay off the homework," I grinned, snatching a noodle off of Mom's plate and dropping it into my mouth. Mom snickered, reaching over to snatch an egg roll off of mine.

"That's a joke, kiddo. If anything I'm going to tell them to double it." She ruffled my hair and I swatted her hand away. Mom laughed and put Frankenstein on mute. She set her cardboard take-out box on the coffee table and crossed her legs under her. In the little light of the TV and in her oversized pajama shorts and t-shirt, it was completely obvious how truly pretty my mother was. She looked young enough to be my sister, and sometimes she even acted like it. She was sure as nosy as one.

"You're not nervous are you Cam? Because, I am! Private school girls I can handle, but a bunch of rowdy teenagers…?" She blew out a gust of air making the stray hairs around her forehead flutter. "No way!"

I shrugged. Mom was one heck of a principle, the students would love her. There was no doubt her principling would be unquestionable (is _principling _even a verb?). _I_ knew that, and I wanted _her _to know that so I said, "You'll do great Mom. And just remember, that it's gonna be my first day too, and I'll be going through the same kind of hell as you."

Mom laughed and took another bite of her noodles and rice. "Don't swear kiddo." She grabbed one of my hands in both of her own and added, "Your father would be so proud of you."

I hadn't heard her mention him in a long time. It still hurt, like those stories you hear about people who lose a limb and can still feel where it used to be. Not having Dad was like missing my arm or my leg. I looked down at my plate of fried rice. "Yeah…"

"He _would_," Mom insisted. "I know he would give anything to see you, all grown up…" her voice cracked and she faltered. I felt my own eyes sting.

"What if I mess up? What have _I _done to make him proud? People don't notice me, Mom."

She scoffed and wiped her eyes before pulling me in close. I curled up and breathed in her mother-smell— a mixture of perfume, lemons and old books. For a moment, I felt like I was six years old again, lying in my mom's lap as she read me a story, waiting for my Dad to come home from work. I would almost be falling asleep before the door would open and I'd hear his voice calling out to us. Then I would be wide awake, and as tired as he was, Dad would pick me up and swing me around while I laughed. And then, he would listen and embrace Mom as I babbled on about my day, only pausing me to ask me to follow him to the kitchen while he got something to eat.

It was great, until the day Dad didn't come home. And then, all I could remember was the phone call, the panicked look on my mother's face, the shaking head, the whispered, 'No. No, _please_'. The totaled car. The funeral.

I wasn't six years old, and I didn't fit in my mother's lap anymore. Things were different.

"Cammie," my mom said softly, stroking my hair. "He would be proud at how strong, and smart, and beautiful you've grown up to be. You took all the good things in him, and the good things in me, and you've made it into your own, incredible person. You are everything we could have hoped you'd be, and _more_. I'm sure your father is looking down on us as happy as he could ever be."

I blinked back tears and hugged her even tighter. "I love you mom." She hugged be back tightly. "I love you too kiddo. Now let's get back. John Boles is waiting."

I pulled back, rolling my eyes and smiling as I wiped my eyes. "He _isn't _cute, Mom!"

"Yes he is!" I snorted as my mom unmuted the television. We settle down to watch the black and white film.

A few beats of silence passed. Suddenly my mom nudged me. "And people do notice you. Like hottie-neighbor-Zach."

"Mom!"

* * *

**A/N: Hi, this is hashtagfanfiction's sister, thanking you for sticking through her temporary disappearance from earth. Please R&R, and forgive if any of the writing is different- she and I have way different writing styles, and, like was previously mentioned, I did have to take over a little bit. She'll be back soon though. **

**Happy New Year's!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys, so this is sort of an awkward chapter, cause Cammie is just starting to meet everyone and I wanted to make sure all the main characters were introduced. Also sorry it took so long to update, I was kind of nervous that you wouldn't like it, but mainly I was just really lazy. By the way, thanks so much for your reviews! I read and loved them all! Keep on writing them. So tell me what you think, and REVIEW! **

* * *

The rest of the week passed by so fast, it was Sunday night before I could properly prepare myself. Mom and I had spent the whole week incredibly busy—her going to Roseville high to get ready for school, and me unpacking until our house was almost completely done, with the exception of a few boxes I was too lazy to look at. Mom had long since disappeared into her study to do the 'principle-y' things she needed to finish before school the next day.

That night when I was in bed, I was restless. It felt like I'd been in bed for hours and I wasn't even the least bit tired. I sat up and rubbed my face with my hands.

After taking some deep breaths (Aunt Abby said it really helped nerves), I got out of bed and made my way to the window of my room, lifting up the shades and the blinds until the moonlight shone through the glass. I threw open the window. The cool September air hit my skin, and it felt amazing.

I looked up, admiring the stars, because back in New York you can't really see them very well. Light pollution and all that. I glanced back at the clock on my nightstand and let out a squeal of shock. I _really _needed to get to sleep. I slammed the window shut, leaving the blinds up so that the moonlight illuminated my floor, and jumped in my bed, closing my eyes and praying for fast sleep.

At six in the morning the next day, my blaring alarm was not my friend. I groaned into my pillow, repeating my exact same routine from the first morning I'd been in Roseville. I was almost drifting back to sleep before I realized: today would be my first day at Roseville High.

I shot out of bed, throwing my blanket onto the floor and leaping into my bathroom in one fluid motion. _Relax Cammie, _I instructed myself, jamming my toothbrush into my mouth and running the shower at the same time. _It's just a normal day. _But as I thought back to all the movies I'd seen where high school looked anything but normal, I felt a lurch in my stomach.

I stepped into the shower, letting the water rinse away my sleep. First day of public school…first day of public school…I scrubbed at my hair with intensity as if washing away all the nervous thoughts from my head. I could do this. I could _totally _do this…right? When I turned off my water, feeling well scrubbed, clean and smelling like my favorite body wash, I suddenly knew that I could _so _not do this. I was going to screw my first day way up.

I wrapped my wet hair in a towel, and then my body before stepping out of the steaming bathroom and into my room again. The smell of breakfast wafted up to me from downstairs and for once it didn't smell burnt. I took a deep breath. "You ready, Cam?" I muttered to myself.

My clothes were lying out in front of me. They were simple, they were warm, and they were (I hope) stylish enough for the junior class to accept. I hurried into them and left my hair in the towel. Make-up. Make-up was what I needed. I shuffled through one of the few boxes that were still unpacked in the corner of my bedroom and pulled out my make-up bag. I didn't usually use it, but I figured my first day should require a little dressing up. First impressions and all that stupid, nerve wracking stuff.

I started back towards my bathroom, with a mascara wand glued to one eyelash and a handful of cosmetics in the other. As I passed by my window, the one over looking the house next door, I saw a flash of movement. I took a slow step back, turning my head, so that me, my giant towel turban, and mascara wand were all staring through my window—and into the window of the house next door. Across gap between the two houses, mirroring my cautious step backwards and curious expression, was Zach, whose interested look quickly transformed into a smirk.

Neither of us said anything. Me, because I was too embarrassed to speak, and him, probably because he was laughing at me. He was already dressed, with wet hair and his signature cocky grin. His eyes traveled up to my head, where my towel turban listed dangerously to the side and his eyebrow slid up his forehead. I dropped both my make-up and turban onto the floor, shot Zach a look, and slammed my blinds onto the window. I definitely regretted not doing that last night. Since when did he leave the window open anyway? I'd lived here a full week and never seen into the other house.

What an _awesome _way to start the morning. I could feel my cheeks flaming and I knew that no amount of coffee, and therapy could erase the embarrassment from my mind. I scooped all my stuff off the floor and made my way back into the bathroom. There was still so much to do…straighten, eyeline, volumize…all these things that Teen Vogue assured me would make my first day of school go great, and I had so little time. Fifteen minutes to be exact.

I managed to finish my make-up and half of my hair before Mom called me downstairs. I looked good, hopefully no one would notice one side of my head was straight and the other wasn't. I ran the flat iron through it quickly just to be safe.

"Oh my gosh, you look great!" Mom cried excitedly when I landed on the last step of the stairs, backpack in hand. She was holding her purse, a stack of papers, and a plate of unscorched pancakes. She extended me the plate and wiped her hands on a towel instead of her pristine slacks. "How do _I _look?"

Honestly? She looked fantastic. She looked like something off of a business magazine. It was such a change from the sweatpants and t-shirt look she had been sporting all through summer vacation. But school had started and summer had ended and the principle of Roseville High School had to dress to impress. And she was.

"Definitely a ten."

Mom smiled gratefully and started heading for the door, shouting out behind her. "Let's go, let's go! I have to be there before the students arrive!" She made her way out the front door, heels clacking against the pavement. I rolled my eyes, but followed her anyways.

In the car, I scarfed down my pancakes, thankful that they weren't blackened and smoking. How did Mom manage not to completely ruin these? We pulled out of the driveway and started making our way down the tree-lined street. Mom was babbling the whole ride there, about how there would be a opening football game soon, or how the Roseville Raiders swim team would be great this year. It was so totally obvious she was excited about working here, and even though she was practically talking my ear off, I didn't stop her.

I set my empty plate in the backseat and pressed my head to the cool glass of the car window, watching the houses blur by. It was a mucky kind of day, and rain was threatening to spill over from the clouds any moment. As we pulled into the parking lot a few drops splattered across the windshield. There goes my hair…or _half _my hair I guess.

We parked the car in Mom's reserved spot and started our way up the steps. Roseville was a small high school, which made sense because it was a small town. It was brightly lit and had the first day of school smell when we walked in. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and followed Mom through the foyer. She walked confidently towards her office. Oh yeah, she was definitely going to do great.

"I have to get to work Cam, but you can hang out in here if you like," she told me, dropping the stack of papers on her desk. "I already grabbed your schedule and locker information last week," she said, handing me a packet with my name written across the top.

"Sweet," I said, grabbing it and plopping down in her plush leather roller chair. I pulled it open and checked it out. This meant I actually had to go find my locker and classes now. I stood back up and followed my mother out. "I'm going to go check the school out. Good luck today Mom."

"Good luck to you too kiddo. And please, try not to get into any air conditioning vents. I don't need to pull the principal card to get you out of trouble on the first day."

"Mom!" I groaned at her teasing reference to the time I was wandering around Gallagher and accidentally ended up in the air conditioning vent above the kitchens. No one knew where I was and everyone was in a panic, until I finally got tired and reappeared in my mom's office, covered in black soot and cobwebs. I tended to do that—find old nooks and crannies to hide from people. At Gallagher, I knew about a bajillion secret passageways.

Mom only laughed at me and continued down the hall. I was left by myself in the near empty school.

"Okay. Locker 216. Where are you?" I muttered, scanning the hallways for any sign that I was going in the right direction.

After about 15 minutes of walking in circles, I had located my trig, physics, and history classrooms, but had yet to find my locker. Other students were starting to arrive, and the school was beginning to fill with the cheerful squeals and deep shouts of 'duuuude,' from the guys and girls seeing their friends again after a long summer. I was feeling conspicuous, and really wishing that I didn't have a locker and could just go burrow in my mom's office until the bell rang.

I was just about to give up, on finding my locker and on succeeding my first day of middle school when I bumped into someone taller and a lot more coordinated than I was.

"Oh my gosh, sorry!" I yelped, stumbling back and nearly landing on my butt. The person I hit extended an arm and I took it, letting her pull me up. 'She' was a girl about my age, with dark skin and two rows of perfect white teeth that were grinning down at me.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Her voice was heavy with a British accent. "I totally didn't see you there."

"It was definitely my fault, don't worry about it. I'm Cammie by the way." I extended my hand, even though the minute I did it I immediately regretted it. I mean, we're_ high school,_ no one went around shaking each other's hands. But if the girl thought it was weird she didn't let on. She grabbed my hand in hers and gave me a strong shake and saying, "Bex. Nice to meet you."

I was about to respond with something like, 'nice to meet you too' or 'I like your top' (because it sounded like a normal thing to say, plus her shirt _was_ really cute) but before I could respond Bex interrupted me with, "You're lost aren't you?"

"That obvious?"

"Oh yeah." She laughed, and then added, "But I can help you out. Where are you headed to?"

I handed her my pink piece of paper with all my locker information and my class schedule and gestured vaguely around me. "Locker 216, even though after searching for twenty minutes I'm not sure it even exists."

Bex snickered, and turned swiftly on her heel. She motioned me to follow her speedy pace as we pushed past the people crowding the hallway and headed to where I assumed locker 216 was.

"You were heading in the opposite direction." She told me, not thinking twice as she shoved a giant guy in a letter jacket out of her way. He tumbled backward, nearly knocking someone else down before regaining his balance. Man, I didn't not what to be on this girl's bad side.

We hurried up some granite steps, past some already filled classrooms and a couple of bathrooms, before finally stopping at long row of dark green lockers with a halt. Bex took another glance at the crinkled piece of paper in her hands and dialed in my combo with surprising speed. It popped open, with a satisfying, first-day-of-school sounding type of clank.

"Wow, thanks," I grinned swinging my bag into the small metal space and turning gratefully towards Bex. She waved off my apology, leaning casually against the locker.

"No biggie," Bex insisted, as the sound of the first bell echoed through the hallways. She straightened, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders and turning to head back in the direction we came. "It's always a pleasure helping around the principle's daughter."

I froze in my tracks and looked up in horror. It was bad enough getting the teacher's pet treatment, only this was worse. "How do you even know?"

Bex, who glanced over her shoulder as she walked, despite the giant crowd of people having to maneuver their way around her, winked. "Trust me Cammie, _everyone_ knows the principle's daughter."

And as I watched her turn around and disappear into the flood of people all I could think was, "_Oh great._"

* * *

I'd always been pretty weary at the new kids at Gallagher. I mean, I knew they were supposed to be exceptional young women and all that, but hey, a new kid was a new kid, genius or not. I never realized how utterly sucky it is to really be one.

Now, I'm not trying to sound super cliché like every single teenage novel or hit ABC family series, but I'm telling you: it's not easy.

**My First Day Statistics**

**A list by Cammie Morgan:**

**Number of times I got lost: 15**

**Number of times I had to correct my teachers to call me Cammie instead of Cameron: 11 (Mrs. Heinburg was really just not getting it)**

**Number of times I had to confirm that I was in fact Mrs. Morgan's, as in Mrs. Morgan, the principle's daughter: 33**

**Number times I had seen Bex: 2 (so far she was in two of my classes)**

**Number of times I had seen Zach: 0**

By the time I had walked into lunch, I was exhausted, starving, and in desperate need to some caffeine. And then I saw the cafeteria, and all those feelings disappeared. People, holy crap, so many people. They were everywhere, waiting in lines, throwing food around, sitting at tables. I was beginning to miss the formality of Gallagher meals, where we all sat at long tables and talked in quiet, respectful voices. This was chaos.

I weaved my way through the tables and people, trying to avoid the looks and whispers I got when I walked past everyone. I guess Roseville didn't have too many new students because I was the talk of the cafeteria. Bex was right. Everyone knew the principle's daughter.

The line for real food, good, unhealthy, unnaturally greasy school food was way too long, so I just headed straight for the salad bar, desperate to get something to eat and then hightail it out of there. I probably would have hidden in the bathroom, just to really complete the whole new girl facade, if Bex hadn't waved me over.

She was sitting in the middle table, right in the center of the cafeteria and when I walked up with my bowl of salad, I nearly tripped over a couple of people's feet.

"Hey Cammie," she said, uncrossing her long legs from the seat across from her. I took it, dropping my bowl of salad on the table with a loud sigh.

"This new girl stuff is hard."

The girl sitting to Bex's right looked up from her plate of sushi, that looked way to fancy to come from the school cafeteria and smiled. "Tell me about it." She twirled her chopsticks in her hands casually. "I came here sophomore year, and people were acting like it was a some huge deal. It felt like even the news reporters were talking about it."

"That's because the news reporters _were _talking about it, Macey." Bex, rolled her eyes. "It's what happens when your dad's the senator." Macey flicked Bex the finger (if she had done that at Gallagher she would have received a week of in lunch detention).

"Where's Lizzie?" Bex asked, ignoring the gesture and leaning back in her seat to look around the cafeteria.

Macey shrugged. "Last time I saw her, she was at—"

"—the library," they finished together. Bex rolled her eyes, albeit amusedly. "Of course she was."

As if on cue, I heard a shuffle behind me and turned around to see a tiny little blond girl huffing towards our table, holding a stack of book almost as big as her. "Sorry guys, I was finishing up a report for Mr. Moskowitz!"

The girl, Liz, I assumed, dropped her sack lunch and books on the table with an excited squeal. "We had the most interesting conversation about interstellar travel! He was explaining all about how Alpha Centuri A is approximately 4.24 light years away, and I asked if human could achieve ninety-nine point eight percent of light speed, accelerating at approximately nineteen point six two meters per second for eight months before traveling at a constant velocity, if we could reach the star about five and a half years, and he said the amount of fuel it would take would be impossible to carry such a distance at that acceleration, so _I_ suggested a perpetual motion machine and—." Suddenly she paused, maybe to take a breath and then seemed to realize I was there. Whatever she was about to say about interstellar travel evaporated on her tongue and instead she replaced it with, "Who's this?" and a big smile.

"Cammie, and if you had stopped babbling for a second you might have noticed her earlier." Macey snickered. Liz stuck her tongue out in response, but didn't hesitate to ask questions.

"You're mom's the principle isn't she?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like it here so far? Like the people, the grounds and stuff?"

I nodded, chewing my most recent bite of salad before I answered. The last thing I needed was to scare away the nicest people I'd met all day with disgusting table manners. And even though I was three states away I could still totally be representing Madame Dabney's etiquette class back at Gallagher by swallowing before I talked. She would be so proud of me.

"The school's really, um, organized." I offered, trying to avoid all synonyms to the word small. "And the people are nice."

"So have you met a lot of people?" Liz pressed.

Macey leaned in a little closer, and I could see she had a diamond nose ring that twinkled in the light as she said, "Any _boys?_"

For a moment I thought of Zach, but I was seriously doubting he even went here, since it was such a small school and I hadn't even seen him once. So I shook my head. "Nope."

Macey scoffed and leaned back again. "Well that'll change soon enough. If there's one thing Roseville has, it's football," she scrunched her nose in disgust, like the name of the sport even _sounded _sweaty and dirty, "and boys who play it. And _no _Bex, not that type of football."

Bex, who had opened her mouth to say something, snapped it shut and let out a huff. "_American_ football," she muttered under her breath.

"Anyway," Macey continued. " Roseville has plenty of football boys, and those are the ones you want to go after—I mean, the other sports have some cute guys, but football is an automatic _in_ to the top of the social ladder." She took a delicate bite of sushi and added, "If you care about that sort of thing."

I hesitated. Did I care about that sort of thing? At Gallagher, we didn't really have any of these cliques and groups and stuff, although we did have groups of friends. I didn't want to be at the top of the social ladder though. That meant being in the spotlight. And I preferred to blend in to the background.

"I'm not really big on popularity," I settled on saying. I took a sip of water, thinking about it, before saying, "Or attention."

Liz and Bex exchanged devilish smiles (which kind of frightened me. The expression was not comforting on Bex, but on Liz's innocent little face it was downright _terrifying_). Macey grinned and leaned across the table to pinch my cheek. "Oh, Cammie," she sighed. "You and I are going to get along just_ famously._"

The next few periods weren't as lonely, because now I was walking with Bex, Macey, and Liz, who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to be my personal escorts to my next few classes. I had fifth period alone, but my sixth was with Liz. Seventh was the athletic period, which meant Bex was in soccer and I was in cross country. I was pretty thankful that I had at least one person I knew in the last of my classes.

Sixth period rolled along and I waved goodbye to Bex and Macey as they both left to go to whatever class they had. Liz and I started walking towards our sixth period, AP Biology with Mr. Fibbs.

I wracked my brain for something to say, but Liz beat me to it. "What was your old school like?" she asked, and she seemed genuinely curious.

I flushed. "Oh well, it was a private boarding school," I said. "It officially started in seventh grade but I was there all the time because my mom was headmistress."

"Were the classes hard? I always thought about going to a boarding school because it would be challenging, but my parents convinced me to stay here."

I thought about the rigorous courses at Gallagher and smiled. Liz would have fit right in. "Yeah, but I like Roseville. I'm not used to a small town."

Liz laughed as we turned a corner, weaving around the people milling in the hallway. "Yeah, I mean it's a big jump from New York to a town like this. Everyone knows everybody's business here."

"Oh," I grimaced. Liz saw my expression and quickly added, "But it's not always bad, a lot of the times it's fun! Like, everyone goes to the football games, and there's Homecoming, and we have parades, and there's a farmer's market every Thursday, and—"

She got cut off as she bumped into trashcan and almost toppled over. "Oopsie Daisie!"

"Liz, calm down!" I laughed, helping her steady herself. "I'm not going to move away just because people gossip." She turned pink and laughed with me.

We walked into the classroom and I noticed that the class was significantly smaller than my classes before. The teacher, Mr. Fibbs, was a tall lanky looking man with glasses. He made his way toward Liz and me, and almost instantly tripped over a kid's backpack. It reminded me of Liz.

"Ms. Sutton!" He exclaimed, once he had recovered. "Welcome! And who's this?" He pushed up his glasses and studied me.

"I'm Cammie Morgan, sir."

Mr. Fibbs perked up. "Oh Ms. Morgan, welcome. Sit wherever you'd like." He smiled again then went to his desk and started ruffling some papers.

I followed Liz to a seat by the teacher's desk, and sat next to her. The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the period. Mr. Fibbs made his way to the front. "Hello students. I'm your AP Biology teacher, Dr. Fibbs." Oh. "Now, all of you should have picked up a syllabus on the way in—"

The classroom door opened and _Dr_. Fibbs paused as someone came in. I glanced up from the syllabus (yes, I actually look at it, it can come in handy you know), and felt a surge of… well, something.

Because standing in the doorway, looking a little bit out of breath and a little tousled up, was none other than Zach Goode.

I looked down at my desk. Honestly, I felt a little conflicted, because on one hand, it was nice to know someone else in one of my classes, but on the other hand, that someone else would probably spend the entire year teasing and distracting me until I committed a homicide. Or something. Not to mention that whole _situation_ this morning. I felt my cheeks burn as I thought about it.

I felt someone's gaze on me and I looked up to see Zach grinning at me. I raised an eyebrow at him, and the grin widened.

"Late on the first day, are we Mr. Goode?" Dr. Fibbs asked, though he didn't sound angry.

"Huh?" Zach said. He glanced at Dr. Fibbs and then laughed breezily, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. "Oh you know how it is, Doc. The coaches were giving a big, beginning-of-school speech."

Dr. Fibbs chuckled and shook his head. "Well, fortunately tardies don't count today. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

Zach mock saluted and then made his way over to the desks. He stopped at the front of the room, like he was having trouble picking a seat—even though half of them were empty—before finally planting himself in the one next to mine. "Hey there, Gallagher Girl."

I spared him a glance before turning back to Dr. Fibbs, who was animatedly motioning towards what seemed to be a papier-mâché replica of a strand of DNA. "Hey there, Zach."

He leaned back in his chair. "Haven't seen you all day. I was starting to think you'd lied to me and ended up going to Dayton after all."

I couldn't help but snicker, because it sounded a whole lot like what I had been thinking about not seeing _him_ all day. "How do you know I just wasn't avoiding you?"

He put a hand on his heart and winced. "I'm hurt, Gallagher Girl. After all I've done for you?"

I groaned quietly and turned to face him fully. "You really should just let it go."

He smirked. "Never." I turned around to face Dr. Fibbs again, trying not to miss anything he was saying on classroom rules and lab safety. And even though I was hearing what he was saying, I wasn't actually _understanding _anything, because I was too busy noticing that Zach's green eyes were still trained on me. It was only when I felt them shift that I actually heard Dr. Fibbs say, "…blood everywhere. And that's why you should always wear safety goggles."

"By the way, Gallagher Girl…" It was obvious Zach wasn't going to just let me _focus. _I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was staring at Dr. Fibbs, but smiling. "I really liked that towel action this morning. So sexy."

I growled, kicking his shins under the desk. "Jerk!"

He stifled a laugh reached over to rub the spot where my foot had hit him. Fortunately, Dr. Fibbs had just knocked over the papier-mâché DNA and no one was paying attention. Well, almost no one. I looked to my right and saw Liz gaping between me and Zach, looking _way _more excited than I was comfortable with.

"Cammie!" She whispered/shouted.

"Lizzie!" I mimicked.

"I thought you said you hadn't—" I shot her a quick look and she snapped her mouth shut, though her excitement didn't fade. I knew what she was about to say—she was about to mention my comment to Macey about not meeting any boys. Thank God, she was smart enough to take a hint.

She didn't have a chance to interrogate me the rest of the period, since Dr. Fibbs had us so busy jotting down guide lines for the rest of the year. That also meant, that there was no time for Zach to make any more teasing comments about this morning, something that I'm definitely grateful for.

When the bell rang and Liz and I walked to my locker, I thought I was in the clear, until a manicured hand reached out from behind me and slammed the locker shut. It was so unexpected I nearly dropped my books to the floor. "Holy crap!"

"Sorry, Cammie, but it had to be done." I turned around to see Macey poised with her hands on her hips, looking extremely intimidating. Bex was next to her, and though her hands were in her soccer hoodie's pockets, she was shaking her head in disappointment.

"What'd I do?" I asked nervously.

"_You_ told me you hadn't met any boys, and yet someone _else _told me that you were getting pretty cozy with one in biology!"

I turned accusingly to Liz, who was pink but determined. "How did you even tell her anything?! You've been next to me this whole time!"

Macey held up her phone. "It's the 21st century, Cam."

I shook my head. "Texting in class… breaking the rules now, Liz?"

"It was an emergency!" she argued, standing tall (which basically meant she came up to just short of my shoulders). "You talked to _Zach_!"

"He's my neighbor," I said defensively, which made Macey's mouth clamp shut. Her perfectly plucked eyebrow started sliding up her forehead, making her look beyond evil. "Okay," she said finally. "This is not something that we can just discuss passively between passing periods. We need to talk about this." Her blue eyes sparkled. "In length."

What the heck did that mean?

But by now the minute bell had rung, and I had approximately sixty seconds to get changed and head out to the track, where cross county would be meeting, so when Bex pushed me towards the girl's locker room and said, "You're coming home with me tonight." I didn't really have any other choice but to nod.

* * *

I tapped on Mom's office door. Through the sliver of doorway that was open, I could see her bent over a stack of papers even bigger than the ones she had earlier in the morning. By now, her bun had come disheveled and strands were framing her tired looking face.

"Come in," she sighed, in a voice that totally sounded like she didn't want anyone to come in. I pushed the heavy oak door open anyways and stepped into the office, dropping my backpack in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk.

"Hey kiddo!"

"Hey Mom."

Mom, pushed her work aside, and leaned over the desk so that she could ruffle my hair. She didn't look tired anymore, she just looked pretty pleased, that the school day was over and that she had an excuse not to fill out any more paper work. "How was the first day?"

I thought back to the past eight hours, and shrugged. "Pretty good. Probably better than yours." I nodded my head towards the pages scattered everywhere and cocked an eyebrow. It was the first day; seriously how many pieces of paper did she need to fill out?

"Doubt it," she sang, spinning once in her chair. "Did you know I get free dental with this job?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, I'm not even going to pretend to be excited for you. But still I need a favor…"

Mom's eyebrows shot up and she sat back in her seat. Her arms crossed against her chest and she tapped her toe against the wooden floor of her office. "And what would that be?"

I gulped, checking the clock. 3:10, which meant I was already ten minutes late to meet Bex at her car. I didn't want them to leave with out me. "Do you think maybe I could, hang out with some people I met today? Just for a little while."

Mom grinned and I knew she was going to say yes, so when she smiled and nodded, I wasn't surprised. "Be home at nine!" She shouted after me as I turned and made my way out of her office. "It's still a school night!"

I hurried my way down the hallway, pushing past stragglers that were still wandering around the school and hurried out to the front end of the school. There were more people outside, hanging around and driving up and down the street to look for their friends.

I didn't know what kind of car Bex drove, so I sort of waited on the curb hoping that they hadn't left with out me. I didn't want them to think I had ditched them, especially since they were the nicest people I'd met all day.

A loud long honk followed by the sound of Bex screaming, "CAMMIE!" led me to a black Range Rover. Bex was leaning out the driver's window and in the backseat, I could see Liz hunched over some type of book. The passenger side was empty.

"Hey, where's Macey?" I asked, opening the car door and buckling my seatbelt. Bex pressed on the accelerator, going above the school speed limit (a daring twenty-five miles per hour) and cut a jeep off. Whoever was driving let out a blaring honk but Bex just waved them off and turned onto the main road.

"She's driving by herself," Liz piped up from the back. I looked in the rearview mirror, and saw her holding the biology textbook. "Bex drives me home on Mondays."

I nodded, but didn't answer because at this point Bex had turned her music up loud and was zipping down the street. She was a worse driver than I was, and a couple of times she even started driving on the wrong side of the street, and didn't realize until a car nearly ran us over. Yeah, it definitely wasn't nerve wracking at all.

We finally pulled into a polished driveway, followed by a house that looked a lot like mine. Bex turned the car off and got out, so I followed. We walked up the brick steps to the bright red front door and Bex stuck her key in the lock. It creaked open.

The house was silent. "So where are you parents?" I asked, following Bex and Liz into the kitchen. Bex crossed the tile, and stopped in front of the fridge. I couldn't see her face, cause it was halfway in the fridge, when she said, "They're at work."

I nodded and leaned across the counter, waiting for what to do next. Liz was still reading, she had been the whole way here and the whole time inside the house, and Bex was balancing a pile of food in her arms.

"I've got two different ice cream flavors, whip cream, and some pretzels- you guys wanna go upstairs and wait for Macey?" I eyed the mint chocolate chip gallon of ice cream hungrily and nodded. The salad I'd had for lunch hadn't even lasted me two hours. By seventh period my stomach had already been growling. So heck yes, I wanted some ice cream and pretzels.

We made our way up the white-carpeted stairs, with me having to guide Liz the whole way up since she was still not dropping her biology textbook. She must have been reading something super interesting.

When we got to Bex's room we dumped all the food onto the bed, and dug right in. I probably should have been careful not to drip any of the minty chocolate goodness onto Bex's comforter but I was so hungry I didn't care. I dug my spoon in and ate straight from the carton. Sorry, Madame Dabney.

We talked for a bit, mostly about sports. It was good; cause Liz had nothing to add on the subject so she had an excuse to keep on reading, plus hearing about Bex talk about all the sports she had played was really interesting.

"I came here in eighth grade, and played volleyball and basketball for a while. But I totally hated it. And I've always loved football, so that's what I stuck with." She was saying, as she munched absent-mindedly on her pretzel. All around her room were soccer trophies and track ribbons. She had at least six soccer jerseys tacked up to her wall, all signed by someone famous that I knew absolutely nothing about it.

I leaned back into Bex's pillows and nodded. "I like running. So cross country's my thing."

"And apparently so is Zach."

Macey was standing at the doorway to Bex's room, with her arms crossed across her chest and a sly smile on her face. She kicked her shoes off, and then dropped dramatically on the bed, taking grabbing the unopened vanilla carton off the bed and digging in.

"Um, no, he isn't." I insisted, feeling my face burn red. "Honestly, we're neighbors and that's it."

Liz, who had finally shut her science book at the mention of boys, raised her eyebrows. "That's not what it looked like." Her comment was followed by smug smiles from both Bex and Macey, just before Bex asked.

"So what exactly did it look like, Lizzie?"

"It looked like flirting, Bex."

I groaned and threw my head into the pillows. "It was banter, guys. Like, friendly, we're-just-neighbors, he-helped-me-move-in type of banter. I swear."

Now Macey looked even more unconvinced. She dropped her spoon, covered the ice cream gallon, placed the spoon on top of it, and set it aside. "_He helped you move in?_ Did you ask him to?"

I shook my head.

"Are you joking me?"

I shook my head.

"Wow."

"What's the big deal?" I wanted to know, sitting up on Bex's bed. He was just someone who had helped me move heavy boxes up and down my stairs (_NOT _that I couldn't have done it myself if I wanted to, cause I totally could've).

Bex shrugged. "It's just that Zach is just the flirty type. He's not really the kind of guy who would spend his time helping someone he barely knows move in."

Macey looked up from inspecting her nails. "Yeah, and not to mention he's, like, super hot."

Yeah, and there was that.

* * *

**A/N: See? This chapter doesn't sound very much like me but I still hope y'all like it. I promise (at least I'll try) to make the next one sound less awkward. Well R/R pleeeeeeeeeeease and tell me what you want to hear. I'll try to add it. **

**-hashtagfanfiction**


End file.
